I've been realizing with every passing day that I DON'T blog that it is actually harder than one would think to update every day or every couple of days. I haven't included anything in here about our four-day long trip to Normandy and Brittany, but perhaps this afternoon I'll get around to that. It's gotten to the point that I feel SO far behind that catching up seems too daunting to even begin. Hopefully I'll cross that bridge eventually though.
For now, there are a few things I have been MEANING to jot down: thoughts, observations, reactions, things I don't want to forget. I can always come back to the summary of the weekend trip at a later date.
(This is my inner procrastinator really taking over, if you hadn't noticed.)
Anyway, one of the things I have noted here day in and day out is the French people's willingness to jump into political debates with anyone, at anytime, at any place. My host mother is the perfect example. Every night after dinner, since day one, September 8, Béatrix has loved to talk. She is an incredibly intelligent, open-minded, and cultivated woman. She lived in Russia for a number of years working for the French embassy in Moscow then returned to Paris to work for the international marketing sector of L'Oréal Paris. Pretty interesting life she's lead. She's traveled all over the world, has friends on every single continent, and is erudite. She's told me before that she spent most of her young life just reading books.
All of her experiences have culminated and made her what she is today: very opinionated, well-informed, and has something to say in regards to just about every topic. She's taught me things about Russia, about French culture, and about her life. And for this I am so grateful. There really are some things that a formal classroom atmosphere just cannot cater to. She has read a work by EVERY author I have ever mentioned, loves American cinema (Quentin Tarentino is one of her favorites, but she hasn't seen Inglourious Basterds--I immediately told her to rectify that situation as soon as possible), has grandparents who served in World War I, and she lived through part of WWII. To sum it all up, she's just about been everywhere and learned a lot in her lifetime. And what's great is, she's always open to learn more.
At first, sitting down after dinner for three hours listening to this woman talk was really exhausting. I understood about 90% of what she had to say, and the other 10% I just had to draw meaning from contextual implications and gestures she made. I got the jist of it, but when the clock turned 1 am a few nights in a row as she continued to share her stories, I became really uncomfortable. I hate being rude and didn't just want to say "It's really late, you need to stop talking/I need to go to bed." I was paying for it the next day, seeing as I had to buy myself a few extra espressos at Reid Hall's 40 centime beverage vending-machine.
As time passed, I began to notice something. Interrupting others in France is NOT RUDE! Americans, if interrupted, automatically take the offensive and assume the other person is the most ill-bred human alive. Not so in gay Paris. People won't hesitate to let you finish your comment if they disagree or have no interest in what you have to say. And they aren't afraid to let you know! I also found it uncomfortable in the beginning of the trip that from time to time I could hear heated arguments in the living room from my bedroom between Béatrix and her son, François-Henri. But now I know. It's just the French way of communicating.
So now, when I'm getting tired or have other things to do after dinner (like BLOGGING, for instance), I'll just stand up, listen to Béatrix finish her last comment, put my plate in the sink, clear off the table and head into my room. And she hasn't kicked me out for being the rude American yet. I consider that situation, at this point in time, under control.
Another thing that goes hand-in-hand with French discourse is the politically-charged atmosphere you can find just about anywhere in Paris. I've heard political discussions between a group of about seven Africans on the métro arguing about Sarkozy's immigration policies, politically-charged comments from every one of my professors...its all-around you in Paris. The key is to not be turned off by Parisian's tendency to voice their opinions on every subject matter, but to appreciate that the French people really expect a lot from their government. I'll talk more about this point in another blog dedicated to everything I've learned so far in my political science class.
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